Our Christmas Eve flight from DC to NYC was horrible. We encountered heavy turbulence, and I had a serious panic attack. My legs were thumping up and down, I couldn't breathe, etc. I've never experienced an involuntary reaction like that. But one little girl puked, so at least I wasn't alone.

We spent an hour at LaGuardia deciding whether or not I was fit to board the plane to Burlington. It was a tiny, 15-person propeller craft. Considering the previous flight, there was justification for aborting the mission.

Instead, I ate a small fistful of Benadryl and boarded the damn thing. After taking our cramped seats, Brooke turned to me and said, "I don't think this is going to work for you." So we made them let us off the plane. I felt ridiculous, but relieved.

We called our Big Apple-based friend Mirela, who looked at the train schedule and found us a hitch to Rutland. the downside? It would be leaving Penn Station in about an hour. But there was a happy coincidence, provided we could make the train: Mirela's boyfriend (and my best pal) Ethan was in Rutland already, visiting family. He said he'd be glad to give us a lift back to B-town.

So we hastily summoned a cab and managed to catch the choo-choo to VT. It was a really fun ride; we drank booze, read and joked about what a psychological mess I am.

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